There is a sacred garden that exists behind closed doors, a place where the air is still and the past no longer has the power to sting. In this space, I do not have to be the person the world expects; I do not have to explain the scars or justify the path I took to find my peace. I am simply a mother, a woman, and a soul in bloom, tending to a rare and quiet miracle that belongs to no one but me.
The Stem of a Silent Blue
In a world of thorns and common red,
I chose a different path instead.
A shade of blue, like twilight air,
A quiet grace that’s hidden there.
Impossible, the rumors say,
Yet here I bloom, day after day.
No jagged edge, no sharp defense,
To guard against the past’s offense.
I’ve smoothed the stalk and cleared the vine,
To make this gentle future mine.
For peace is not a battle won,
But soft light from a steady sun.
And there, upon the very same stem,
A tiny bud, a rising gem.
She draws her strength from where I stand,
A future held within my hand.
Two lives entwined, yet blooming free,
Beneath the shade of my own tree.
I do not need the world to see,
The depth of what this means to me.
My secret blue, my child of light,
A shield against the lonely night.
A private truth, a sacred vow,
Within the garden of the now.
This blue rose is the symbol of the impossible becoming real. It is the life I have built after the storm. A life where the "sharp edges" have been traded for a smooth, intentional peace. My daughter is the bud, the promise of tomorrow growing safely beside me. We do not need to be understood by the crowd; we only need to thrive. I keep this symbol in the quiet of my heart, knowing that the most beautiful things are often the ones we protect in silence.